


The Start of Something

by the_song_you_gave_me



Series: Olympus [2]
Category: Alpha and Omega - Patricia Briggs, BRIGGS Patricia - Works, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-06 23:49:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_song_you_gave_me/pseuds/the_song_you_gave_me
Summary: A very clever summary follows for a work that's not fully gelled yet- but it'll get somewhere alright. Maybe. Consider this the backstory work for that fluffy thing called part 1.





	1. Horrible

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a couple years past the existing canon, 17 years prior to when Ceridwen decides to kick her feet up on a table… and Mwha ha ha—it's so much more my speed. Note the warnings above.

It started around the time that Anna was looking for a surrogate mother. Or perhaps… that was when it could no longer be ignored. Leah was always testy to some degree, it’s sure. But after months of minor spats with people throughout town, she lashed out against the Omega in the Marrok’s own kitchen, with Charles and Bran right there.

Enraged, both leapt to defend their mates. Charles lost.

“Anna, are you alright?” Bran asked.

A rising pitch of anger marked her voice, “What?”

“I said, are you alright?” Bran growled, still sitting on top of his son’s chest down by the tile floor. Leah stayed backed against the countertop on the other side, a sickly air about her under the proud smile she displayed.

“Yes, Bran.” Anna raised her hands and threw them down again, “Can I have my husband back?”

Slight of statue and no less fearsome for it, the blond man stood. Charles rose to his feet from beneath his father and leaned against the sink, not meeting the Alpha’s stare.

“Get out.”

His second left no sooner than the command was said, guarding Anna’s back on the way to the door.

Bran turned to his wife.

She laughed.

She laughed to his face and she cried. He knew when someone's control was barely hanging on.

“How long?” She asked through her joker’s smile, “How long are you going to let that beast of yours procrastinate?”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, the wolf never left her eyes. He never saw her look more like a queen.

She giggled as he walked closer. Teasing, yet still as iron she asked, “How long are you going to let this vengeful, jealous bitch survive?”

His hands went to her hips, calling her wild nature to relax against his own. His wolf could feel the sickness about her; the steadfast drive to protect their bond faltered a bit, even as it sought to meet her need. Victoriously, her arms languished over his shoulders. Obedient, he gave her the kiss her lips asked. Their bodies sank together.

Her nails like claws scraped up his nape to his scalp. “Months? Years?” Leah mocked him as she took a breath. He grabbed her tight and bit into her flesh. She gasped a throaty chuckle as she pushed herself away, dead serious.

“Tell me, who’s the real psychopath in that brain of yours?” Leah kissed his brow as he leaned his head close to hers.

 

Leah and Bran took a retreat after that. For a month, they stayed locked away in a mountain cabin, far removed from any civilization—just her and him, their wolves as one. He knew what would come. Increasingly, the madness drove them to fight each other, just as it made for nights of passionate pleasure: rough, wild, and carnal—the best. They drowned themselves in it—as two beasts with shared breath. Countless times, he curled her in his arms. She lay against his chest. He threaded his fingers through her hair and they touched with no regrets. Wordless, unending, ever faithful, he broke her neck.

In effigy, snow fell as the house burned.

He took care of the remains that no evil would find his last mate.

Then slowly, the lone figure walked down the slopes with nothing but the clothes on his back and a phone in his pocket.


	2. Inauspicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in the Tri-Cities...

“Doc, telephone.”

“Does anyone even say that anymore?” Samuel flicks the excess water off his hands and grabs the automatic paper towel on his way to the lobby’s front desk.

“Sure, I do.” Jody smacks her gum with a smile and hands the receiver over, “You got a brother? It’s another man says he’s Cornick.”

Samuel mutters something and checks his cell. “Charles, I was in surgery. Of course my phone was off.”

“It’s done.”

The doctor’s face falls, “Da.” Cautiously, he thinks through his next words, “Where are you exactly?”

There’s a murmuring on the other end, the background noise sounding far from panicked. “What town is this?” his father asks someone right nearby.

“Beaver Springs,” the old voice comes in reply.

“You heard?”

“Yes.” Samuel makes the mental note to call Charles. For that matter, “Do you want Charles to come pick you up?”

“No. Right now I’d prefer you.”

Of course he would. Charles wouldn’t hesitate as much if he had to kill him. Samuel nudges Jody to give him a spot in front of the computer and opens a browser to find Beaver Springs. “I can be there in ten hours if I book it, Da. Are you somewhere you’ll be safe?” Are you somewhere that the others around you will still be safe after ten hours on your own?

The Marrok laughs, not hiding his derision, “I’m at a Starbucks, of all places. It was the first building I found with a plug and a phone charger. They’ve got some nice folk here and the hot chocolate’s not bad when they give it to you free.”

“And I bet you look a right state,” his son responds, “I’ll see you when I find you.”

His da gives a noncommittal grunt and for a brief second, Samuel worries as he hangs up the phone. He turns his cell on first thing and calls the number on the map for the Beaver Springs police station.

“Hello?” A competent-sounding armchair lounger answers with that same backwoods accent from the coffee shop.

“Hi, my name’s Samuel. There’s a man in your Starbucks who answers to the name of Bran Cornick, blond fellow with hazel eyes that might look a bit yellow. He’s been lost in the woods for a couple days and I’m on my way to come get him but it’ll take a good twelve hours. Can you get him some food or a steak or something, and I’ll pay you back whatever it takes?”

“Are you kidding?”

“No sir, I’m being drastically serious. I got off the phone with him about a minute ago. Please just keep an eye on him and call this number if anything happens.”

“Who is this?”

“Doctor Samuel Cornick, sir. I’d like to see Bran still alive and not starving by the time I get there is all.”

“Hey Mike, get a load of this!”

Samuel rolls his eyes to the nurse, fully exasperated.

She offers her best supportive smile, “Family emergency, hon?”

“You’ve no idea,” Samuel answers with his cell halfway off his ear.

She gives a quiet, knowing smile. “Alright, Doc. Are you going to be okay trying to drive twelve hours straight after a night shift?”

“I’m calling Mercy next,” he lies with the truth.

“Well get on out of here. I’ll tell the others where you’ve gone.” She rolls back into her spot at the desk and shoos him away to the parking lot.

“Thanks, Jody.” He heads out the door pressing the button for the coyote’s speed dial.

“Mornin’ Samuel, how was work?” Mercy stifles a yawn in the early hour.

“Da called. Leah’s dead. This is my official notice to the pack that I’ll be out of town for the next two days.” He waits for her silence to catch up.

“Is… there some graphic news story about to air on tv?” she asks.

“Not yet,” he grimaces through his teeth as he starts the car. “At least nothing beyond whatever Adam’s doing with the suits in Washington.”

Mercy groans, “I’d come with you, but you know—"

“You’ve got an adorable two-year old pup take care of. Enjoy it, Mercy. I’ll see you in a couple days if I can.”

“Don’t say it like that, Samuel. Do you want one of the pack to go with you?”

“Mercy. This is Bran we’re talking about. If he didn’t want Charles to show up then he definitely won’t want me bringing in anyone from Hauptman’s pack… Though I wouldn’t say no to you and two-year old Lauren.”

“Don’t bet your life on it. Adam _will_ try to kill you.”

“Not if Bran can get to him first.”

“Samuel!”

Samuel smiles as he pulls onto the highway and floors the gas, “Love you, Mercy. Stay safe. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Ten minutes pass before he remembers he hasn’t told Charles about their father yet. Samuel presses the button for Bluetooth and leaves a quick message, “Da called; I’ve got it. Don’t come.”  He thinks for a second and then dials again.

Charles picks up on the first ring this time, “Samuel!”

“Those are his orders, not mine. Just wanted to clarify.”

“Samuel—" Charles growls, but Samuel hangs up before his younger brother can get another word in. He wonders if Mercy’s evasion tactics were starting to rub off on him.

His phone rings through the hands-free system and he almost declines the call before seeing the name on the car’s display.

“Da?” Samuel prepares himself for the worst, “What’s going on?”

“Did you have to send the cops over here with a steak?” His father’s voice sounds so reassuringly composed Samuel finds himself laughing in relief.

“They actually brought you one? I was half joking.”

“Well, now you owe Mike $24.96 for the best their diner had to offer—I’m going to sleep, Samuel. Don’t hurt yourself getting here.”

The Marrok’s signal cuts out, and still his son pushes the car to go faster. Something about that wolf sounded far too calm for everything to work out this well.


End file.
